By the Time I Got to Woodstock

I did my best to help, moving my hands up under Grace's arms to support her, although it was a selfish move on my part. My thumbs stroked the lush tufts of hair as I helped hold her up, and I was struck by how soft the hair felt against my hands. I wondered what it would be like to kiss her there, and tried to figure a way to find out.

Seconds later I watched Grace's face contort and heard her crying out while she came, and after a few more wave-making thrusts, Roger cried out as well. Soon, they both came tumbling off of me and we lay in a twisted pile with limbs akimbo and bodily fluids all over the place.

...

Chapter Nine: Cute? Me?

Having just had more sexual experiences over the space of two hours than I had enjoyed in the 18 years before, I closed my eyes and drifted off into some kind of sleep - dozing but not really knocked out. I felt the bed move and Grace and Roger got off and on a few times, and then my nostrils caught the scent of weed again.

Keeping my eyes closed, because I didn't want to get any more wrecked than I was already, I just stayed on my back and listened to them talking. At first the conversation was pretty general, but when the suject became me, my ears perked up even though my eyes stayed closed.

"I think we knocked Peter out," I heard Roger say.

"Poor little guy's had a rough few days," Grace answered, and as she spoke I felt a hand on my thigh, slowly stroking it. "We should let him rest."

I wasn't sure whether I wanted to know whose hand that was on my leg, gently stroking the down on the top of my thigh, so I kept my eyes closed. Besides, not knowing added to the excitement for some reason.

There was no question about which of the two of them I was attracted to. Grace was beautiful and voluptuous as well as being very sweet to me. Roger was a guy, and I had never had the slightest interest in other guys. Still, there was something about the guy - he was so generous and giving of his woman - that I wasn't as repulsed as I thought I would have been when he touched me.

"I knew you were going to go for him the moment I saw him," Roger said.

"He's just so cute," Grace replied. "I think he was a virgin."

"Well, if you're going to lose it, might as well lose it to my old lady," Roger responded. "How many times have I said that before?"

Now there was a another hand on me in addition to the one stroking my thigh. This hand was up higher, and the fingers were casually raking through the sparse tuft of hair over my dick.

"I thought you said we should let him rest," I heard Grace say, and that answered my wondering about the owner of the hand running through my pubic hair. "I have a feeling you think he's cute too."

"So shoot me," Roger said, his fingers now at the base of my dick.

"I don't think he's bi, babe," Grace said.

"He didn't say anything when I touched him before," Roger whispered. "And when our stuff was rubbing together he didn't back away. You know I'd never force myself on anybody."

"You're going to wake him up," Grace warned, and I felt the bed ripple as somebody started to move. "If he's sleeping, that is."

Suddenly the conversation stopped. The waves of the bed made me feel like I was on the ocean, and while I could have opened my eyes and removed all the mystery, I didn't. Instead, when I felt the warm breath on my dick, I remained still, and kept quiet even when the breath was replaced by a pair of lips, and a mouth enveloped my limp dick.

My dick wiggled around in a very wet mouth as a hand started rolling my balls around. The bed rocked some more, and now I felt someone on the other side of me. I was still flaccid, but there was some signs of life down there, even though I had cum a couple of times already.

Was that Roger down there? All I had to do was look, but I could not bring myself to do it. Why not? Maybe because I was afraid that it would be Roger down there, sucking on my dick, on the way to getting me hard. And so what if it was, another voice asked me? I was miles from home, with people that didn't know me, and anything that was going on would be my secret.

Suddenly, the mouth came off of my semi-turgid dick, and the question about who had been expertly giving me head became irrelevant, because my member was being pointed over to the other side, and a different pair of lips was sliding down all the way into my pubes.

I let out a groan despite myself as my dick got passed back and forth between the two of them, and then there were two tongues licking up and down the sides of the shaft - two pairs of lips nibbling on the crown and the same two tongues dueling with each other at the tip.

My thighs were being spread apart and the bed began bouncing again. The person on my side was still there, sucking away on my dick, while the other person walked down on their knees toward the other end of the bed, creating massive waves that rocked us all around.

I could feel the body heat from the person at my side, and while I could have easily just looked, I couldn't bring myself do do it. Instead, I brought my hand down from the pillow and blindly reached over to touch the person at my hip. After making contact, the guesswork was over, because the thigh that my hand landed on was covered with dense wiry hair.

...

Chapter Ten: Now what?

I'm not sure if I got a jolt of static electricity from making contact with Roger's thigh, but I did recoil a little bit before letting my hand rest there.

Roger let out a groan of his own, and worked his way over until his leg was resting on my side, leaving no doubt as to what he was hoping I would do. His moving made my hand slide along the back of his thigh, and I could feel the heat resonating from above.

At this point I peeked out, and saw pretty much what I expected to see, which was Roger from behind; his hairy sac dangling between his thighs and hanging even lower, the long brown hose that was almost touching the bedding.

Do it, I told myself. You touched Kenny's, even jerked him off. What was the difference?

Well, the differences were rather great. This wasn't two guys pretending they were drunk and getting each other off. This was different. Besides, the cock that was swinging lazily between Roger's legs wasn't anything like Kenny's. This was brown and huge, and the foreskin made it look downright scary.

Between my own legs, a mouth that had to be Grace's was sucking on my balls one at a time, and then each taking them both for a second or two before letting them pop out. My dick was now fully erect, and still being sucked on vigorously by Roger.

They were like eggs in a big wrinkled and hairy sac, and as I rolled them around in my palm Roger squirmed. I heard him say something to Grace, but I couldn't make out what it was.

Now my hand was coming off of his balls, and it seemed like it was moving independently, because it couldn't be me telling it to move forward and take hold of that cock. Not me.

But there it was, my pale white hand clutching Roger's fat, rubbery tube about halfway down. I could barely get my fingers around the girth of it, and it felt like nothing I had even felt before. Certainly nothing like my own or even Kenny's.

The skin moved freely as I gave it a couple of tentative pulls, and when I moved my hand the other way I saw the tip of the glans peek out. The more pronounced my movements became, the more of his crown was revealed, until the entire plum-sized head was exposed with the wrinkled foreskin pulled back entirely.

Not quite so scary looking now with the hood peeled away, but still big, especially from the angle I was at. The base of it looked like the veined roots of a tree, absurdly thick at the trunk and gradually tapering towards the top. The knob was pinkish in color, a sharp contrast form the shaft of the dusky member.

Roger was getting hard, and now I was practically milking him like a cow. Thankfully, his cock didn't have the same degree of growth that mine did when it got hard, but there was still no comparison between the two of us, and I wondered why Grace would even look at somebody built like me when she had Roger around.

"Awake I see," Grace was saying in my ear, having worked her way up to that end of the bed while I was otherwise occupied. "You want to do him with me like we did you? You don't have to, you know?"

...

Chapter Eleven: Doing Roger.

His hands were on our necks, softly rubbing and kneading the backs of them as we relined at his sides. In front of me, Grace had Roger's cock in her fist, pumping the shaft slowly while sucking on the upper half. I watched, realizing that this was like a crash course in cock-sucking I was watching.

Could I actually do this? I had whispered to Grace that I had never done it when she brought it up, but that wasn't the answer she was looking for.

That was going through my mind when Grace let her mouth slide off of Roger's fully engorged cock, and with her eyes looking at me in a way that left no doubt that it would be my choice alone, she moved the throbbing organ over towards me.

Afterward, I confessed to Roger that it was a first for me, even though I'm sure that my performance left no doubt about my lack of experience.

"So did you enjoy it?" Roger asked.

"I dunno," I said, which might have given away what I really thought about putting his cock in my mouth. "Parts of it were alright, but..."

"Look at it this way," Roger said. "I think most every guy, at some time in his life, at least wonders what it would be like to go down on another guy, if only as a fleeting thought for a moment, and one they never act on in real life. The ones that deny that the most might be the ones that want to do it the most."

"So now you've done it," Roger continued. "If you never do it again, at least that's one thing you'll never have to wonder about, and you can concentrate on things that are way more important."

Roger was right about that.

I spent several days with Roger and Grace, taking advantage of their food, weed and overall hospitality. Mostly taking advantage of Grace, I thought, but not only didn't she seem to mind, she was the instigator many of the times.

"Grace is a very sexual woman," Roger told me at one point when she was out of the bedroom.

"I never did it before," I confessed. "Until Grace, I mean."

"You seem to be learning fast," Roger said with a laugh.

"I can't believe you let me do all of this stuff with her," I blurted out, and by then the 'stuff' had grown to encompass virtually everything a man and woman can do with each other. "I mean, if I were you I'd never let anybody near her."

"I don't own Grace," Roger said. "She's her own woman. She loves sex. I love Grace and she loves me. So you being here having sex with her, and with us, is perfect. She's getting what she wants with somebody she likes, and I'm here not only making sure that she stays safe, but I'm enjoying watching as well. Watching Grace have orgasms is my favorite pastime, even if I'm not causing them."

"Besides," Roger chuckled. "There's no way I could have kept her satisfied the last couple of days like you did. You're a very virile young man. She's really fond of you as well."

"She's great," I gushed. "It's just that - I dunno, It's just that it doesn't seem possible that I'm really - you know."

"Making her cum like she does?" Roger asked. "Trust me. When she orgasms, it's real. Every time. Grace is multi-orgasmic to the extreme."

"I just thought that, you know," I mumbled, pulling at my limp dick and shrugging. "Mine is so small compared to yours, that it doesn't seem like..."

"Whoa!" Roger said, cutting me off with a wave of his hand. "That silly stuff just doesn't matter. Oh, there are some women who care about that kind of thing, just like there are guys who only like certain kinds of women, but most women, if they really care about you, don't give a damn about that."

"Don't care about what?" Grace asked, bouncing into the room with her breasts swaying wildly.

"The size of a guy's penis," Roger said, causing me to flush with embarrassment. "Peter here seems to think it matters."

"That's why the world's in the shape it's in. You guys think too frigging much," Grace declared, and promptly swooped down on my dick, putting an end to our conversation.

...

Chapter Twelve: Leaving Woodstock.

I didn't really want to leave, because I was quite infatuated with Grace, but I didn't want to take advantage of the situation. Besides, my folks might get worried about me if I didn't contact them, and without a phone out here at Not Quite Big Pink, I was without any means of contacting them.

Maybe that was the joy of being there. No phones ringing and nothing to do but have sex and get high. I sensed that living like this all the time might not be good for a person, but much like this was a vacation for me, it was also just a summer vacation for Grace and Roger.

Soon they would be going back to their real worlds; Roger was a professor and Grace worked in a day care center, and this house was just a diversion for the summer. They were responsible people who were able to go back and forth between their two worlds without skipping a beat.

So when I mentioned to them that I thought it would be a good idea to head home, they didn't argue, although they made it clear that if I was leaving because I felt like I was imposing, I should stay because they loved having me around.

"We'll take you to Rutland tomorrow morning," Roger said, "but if you change your mind that would be groovy too. We're up here until late August."

"I think I found it," I explained. "The first week was living hell, and then you guys - for no possible reason - took a chance and helped a total stranger. The week I've been with you two - it's been the greatest time of my life."

"Well, we've still got you for another night," Grace proclaimed. "So after dinner it's off to bed until morning."

That night was one hell of a going away party, the highlight of which was having anal sex with Grace. Added to that was the fact that it happened while she was on top of Roger, who had his cock in her pussy at the same time. Yet another experience that I would probably never have again in my life, thanks to this funky and crazy couple.

The next morning at the bus station was tough, and how I could get so emotional over people I had only known for about a week escaped me I couldn't blame it on weed or booze either. I guess I'm just emotional, but Grace got choked up too.

They told me to stop by any time I wanted next summer, and I told them that I would. The bus ride was spent reflecting on the week that was, and the main thing that keep coming back to me was what they had said just before as I got on the bus.

"I wish I could repay you for everything you've done for me," I had mumbled.

"You can," Roger said.

"Anything."

"If you ever see somebody that looks like they're down and hurting, like you were that night, instead of passing them by, lend them a hand," Roger said.

"Really," Grace explained. "It doesn't have to be much. A cup of coffee. A place to stay, or even a smile. You do that, and that more than pays back anything you think you owe us. It feels so good you won't believe it."

"I will," I assured them, and I was going to say that this was the America I was hoping to find, with people that actually cared about each other, but instead I make a vow to myself to do what they had suggested.

"And if you come back next summer," Roger said. "Bring your friend - the one that backed out on you."

"Sure! We'd love to have both of you!" Grace chirped, and got a chuckle and a playful poke from Roger for her double entendre.

"Maybe I will," I told them, not adding that if I didn't, Kenny would never believe me. I had been there, and even I couldn't believe all that had gone on.

...

Epilogue.

I sent Grace and Roger a Christmas card, telling them how college was going and hoped that it would get forwarded to their regular residence in Bennington, Vermont, and I was pleased when I got a response.

Roger sent me a nice note, saying how happy they were I was doing well, and wanted to make sure I knew they were counting on me to visit come summer. He mentioned Grace had come down with something but suggested that hearing from me was the cure for whatever was ailing her.

I drove out to Woodstock that next July, my trunk full of wine and beer so that I wasn't going to be mooching this time. I passed the diner and soon I was heading down that bumpy road. I had offered to bring my friend Kenny with me but he backed out of course, but that was okay because that meant more Grace for me.

I slammed on the brakes, kicking up a dust storm when I realized that I had just passed their long access road. A access road with a FOR SALE sign at the end.

I backed up and went up to the house, which looked like it always had except for it being deserted. I peered in the windows but it was clear that nobody had been here for a awhile. Driving back down the road, I took note of the realtor who was selling the place and headed for town so I could find out what was going on.

"You're interested in the property, sir?" the man at the real estate place said, giving me a look that said he doubted whether a kid like me had money to buy a loaf of bread much less a house.

I explained that I had met the people that owned it last summer and they had invited me back up this year.

"Oh. Well, it's been on the market for about a month,' the man explained. "After the woman died..."

"Died? Grace died?" I said. "That's crazy. She was young - in her forties!"

"51, I believe," The man said. "Don't know as I should be telling you this or not, but yes, she passed away and now Mr. Norrington is selling it."

I managed to get an idea of where I might find Roger from the guy, and as I drove to Bennington I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach as I drove while fighting back tears.

On the campus of the college, it took me all day to track down Roger, and in the end I did by accident, passing him on the street on the way to another building.

"Roger?" I said to the man that I barely recognized.

The impish man with the twinkle in his eye was a shadow of himself, although he managed to smile when he looked up and recognized me.

"Peter!" he said with a little of his old self, but by then I was losing it, and while I'm sure that having a kid hanging on him and crying while saying he was sorry over and over again was no help to him, it was out of my control.

We ended up in a coffee shop, where he explained that Grace had all of a sudden taken ill, and when he went to the doctor they found she had cancer, inoperable and in an advanced stage.

"She must have been in a lot of pain for quite a while, but she never let on," Roger said. "That wasn't her way."

"I loved her," I said. "Still am in love with her."

"I know. I could tell."

"Had to tell you that, even if it's probably not what a guy wants to hear another guy say about his woman."

"Actually, it's just what I wanted to hear," Roger said. "How could you not love her? Everybody she touched fell in love with her. I was the lucky guy who got to share her life for over 20 years."

"She loved you too," Roger continued. "She could never have a child, but I think she saw you as the kid she could have had - without of course, the things we did we you. We spent a lot of time talking about you after you left, and whenever your name would come up she would smile."